Chapter 53
Evie was in her apartment busy writing one evening a few days later, in an effort to stop wondering how Monique had received the unexpected news, if she’d even been told yet.
Going to Vintage Vignettes and simply asking Brigitte was a definite option, but Evie decided to wait another couple of days.
Time was running out though; she was going home soon.
A ring on the apartment’s intercom startled her. ‘Hi,’ she said, pressing the button. ‘Who is it?’
‘I need to talk to you. Would you walk around town with me while we do that?’ Brigitte asked. ‘I’d like to show you something.’
‘I’m on my way down,’ Evie said, grabbing a jacket from the hook by the intercom.
To Evie’s surprise when she opened the street door, Brigitte gave her a hug, which she instinctively returned.
‘We need to walk to Place de Gaulle,’ Brigitte said, as she linked arms with Evie.
‘I’m sorry I’ve been so long getting back to you, but Maman…
’ Brigitte shook her head. ‘She is being even more difficult than usual – impossible as that may seem. Uncle Albert is keen to meet you properly before you leave.’ Brigitte gave Evie a quick look.
‘I’ve told Maman we should all meet up with you and she flatly refuses.
Says she’s met you once and she doesn’t need to meet you again.
Uncle Albert is putting pressure on for her to change her mind. ’
‘Is it simply the fact that I’m American? Or the fact that Stéphane fathered three illegitimate children that Monique can’t handle?’
‘Both.’ Brigitte sighed. ‘The dislike of all Americans mainly stems from Grandmother Flo. As I told you the other evening, throughout my maman’s childhood she was constantly poisoning her mind, against the Americans.
I remember her telling me the same things, but I shrugged it off.
Grand-maman Flo was old by then, and I just thought it was the rantings of an old woman.
But there is also the fact…’ Brigitte paused and shook her head.
‘That part of the story is not mine to tell.’
Evie gave her a questioning look, but Brigitte carried on walking. They walked on up through Rue de la République, past Café Pimm’s and on to Place de Gaulle, when Brigitte stopped.
‘This square has always been Place de Gaulle to me, but Albert reminded me the other evening that it was previously named Place du Maréchal Pétain in honour of a World War One hero. Sadly, he became a traitor during the Second World War, and after the liberation the square was renamed in honour of President de Gaulle.’ Brigitte looked at Evie. ‘We need to walk to the far corner.’
‘I’ve walked in this square so often,’ Evie said. ‘I love everything about it – the fountains, the trees, the shops.’
Brigitte pointed to a building on the right-hand side of the hotel. ‘Your grandmother would have stayed in that building,’ she said.
Evie looked at the modernised facade of the building, her gaze going up from the first floor, past the second, and there, above a window on the third floor, was the granite carving of St. Christopher.
‘It’s still there,’ she said happily. ‘I shall come back tomorrow morning and take a photo in daylight.’
‘Albert was hoping you’d join him and me for lunch tomorrow,’ Brigitte said.
‘I’d love that,’ Evie said. ‘And thank you for tonight.’
* * *
Before they’d parted the previous evening, Brigitte had suggested to Evie that she called in at Vintage Vignettes the next day and they could walk together to the restaurant Albert had chosen.
Evie had happily agreed and was outside the shop as the town hall clock boomed out midday, and Brigitte was closing up.
After the now obligatory cheek kisses between the two of them, Brigitte led the way down a narrow street behind the shop to a restaurant in the old town.
‘I’m feeling a little nervous,’ Evie confessed as they walked. ‘I know Albert says he wants to meet me properly, not to check me out exactly, but I’m sure he’s going to have questions.’
‘Our branch of the Rochefort family is tiny – four of us. I think he is quite thrilled to have another relative. He’s always liked Americans, unlike my maman and Flo.’
Brigitte pushed open the door and glanced around for Albert, catching her breath as she saw him. Sitting opposite, with her back towards the door, was Monique. Albert raised his hand in acknowledgement as he saw them.
‘Is that Monique with him?’ Evie whispered. ‘I thought she refused to meet me? Had I better leave? I don’t want a scene.’
‘I promise you there will not be a scene,’ Brigitte said. ‘I know Albert will have everything under control. Come on, let’s join them.’
Albert stood up as they approached the table. ‘Evie, my dear, it is so lovely of you to join us today. The first lunch for us as a family. I wish Marc could have been here too. Next time.’ And Albert kissed her cheek. ‘As you can see, my sister decided to join us today after all.’
‘After you cajoled me into it,’ Monique said sotto voice.
‘Bonjour, Monique,’ Evie said quietly. ‘I’m glad you decided to come.’ It was a blatant lie, and she hoped Monique couldn’t see her shaking at the prospect of spending the next hour with such a hostile woman.
The restaurant was small and traditional, rarely discovered by tourists but beloved by the locals.
The menu consisted of good wholesome food, nothing fancy, and everyone ate the same.
The plate de jour on offer was French onion soup for starters, cassoulet for the main course, followed by a choice of cheese and biscuits or tarte tatin, and coffee.
There was a bread basket and two decanters – one with red wine and one with rosé – had been placed on the table. Monique already had a glass of red.
‘Red or rosé?’ Albert asked, looking at Evie.
‘Rosé, please,’ Evie said.
Once he’d poured the wine, and a glass of red for Brigitte, Albert looked at Evie. ‘Brigitte tells us you are at the end of your visa soon. It is a shame we did not know of our connection earlier in your stay. When do you leave?’
‘The day after tomorrow sadly,’ Evie said. ‘But I hope to come back with my mom, Daisy, later in the year.’
‘Bon, so we will have the chance to get to know each other better then,’ Albert said.
As the meal progressed everyone, even Monique seemed to relax, although she stayed quiet and didn’t join in the conversation a lot. Evie glanced at her and wondered whether she dared say what she was thinking. Monique looked across at the same moment and their eyes met.
‘Why do you hate Americans so much?’ Evie asked quietly.
Conversation around the table stopped as Monique stared at her.
‘Because they’re invariably noisy, brash and full of themselves – something, I have to say, you’re not. You are exuberant in a youthful way.’ Monique saw Brigitte looking at her. ‘Have you told her my guilty secret?’
‘No,’ Brigitte said instantly.
‘Do I know this guilty secret?’ Albert said, looking from one to the other.
Monique shook her head. ‘As we seem to have acquired American relatives, I suspect I’m going to have to change my views a little and forget what happened in the past. Not only to my maman, but to me personally.
’ She held out her wine glass to Albert.
‘A little more, please. Do you remember your American friend Franklyn? I forget his surname,’ Monique continued.
‘Franklyn Monroe? He came over in the late fifties. We did a lot of sailing together before he left unexpectedly. Never heard from him again,’ Albert said. ‘I seem to remember you had a bit of a crush on him?’
‘I did.’ Monique gave a short laugh. ‘I was eighteen and imagined myself leaving Antibes, moving to California and living the American dream.’ She turned to look at Evie.
‘Your great-grandmother wasn’t alone in dreaming of a new life in a different country with a man she loved.
But thank God I didn’t become pregnant.’ Monique ran her finger around the rim of her glass.
‘I knew Franklyn felt the same about me.’
‘I didn’t realise the two of you had got that close,’ Albert said slowly. ‘Did Papa know?’
Monique nodded. ‘Yes. I never told him, but he heard from friends that I was seeing a lot of Franklyn. He came to me one day and asked me if I knew Franklyn’s birthdate. I happily told him we were born within three months of each other.’
Albert gave her a worried look.
‘It was after that, like Albert said, he disappeared without a word. And that was the end of my dream. I joined Maman in my hatred of Americans.’
‘A few years later when I fell really in love and was about to marry Pierre, Papa told me he was pleased that he’d seen Franklyn off and that I was now marrying a decent Frenchman.’
‘Why didn’t I know about this?’ Albert said. ‘You’ve never said a word before.’
Monique shrugged. ‘You weren’t here. And because of Maman’s hatred, I could hardly turn round and say that maybe some Americans were different, could I? And it’s all in the past.’
‘You should have told me,’ Albert said.
‘I wanted to, but life carried on.’ Monique paused and took a sip of her wine.
‘Something has occurred to me since we’ve met Evie and learnt of her great-grandmother’s affair with Papa.
He didn’t know whether the American baby was a boy or a girl.
I’m now left wondering, whether he always worried about any American men of my age that I met who might unknowingly be related? ’
As Monique finished speaking, Evie came to a decision. Reaching into her bag, she took out the small box that housed the butterfly wing clip brooch, placed it on the table and gently pushed it towards Monique.
‘I’d like to return this to you. After all I’ve learnt, from GeeGee’s journal, from Brigitte, you and Albert, I don’t feel I have the right to keep it any longer. It belongs to you and Brigitte.’